


most alike in appearance and temperament

by starstriker



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Sibling Bonding, and also dying, headcanons!! headcanons everywhere!!, so take that tag with a grain of salt, the bonding is the Helcaraxe tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstriker/pseuds/starstriker
Summary: They were their father's children from birth 'til death.(Or: Lalwen and Fingolfin, middle children extraordinaire.)
Relationships: Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë & Írimë | Lalwen
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	most alike in appearance and temperament

The truth is that out of all their siblings Lalwen is the most like their father in appearance and Fingolfin is most like him in temperament. They, of course, do not say that out loud–and they think it only when Fëanor is nowhere around them. But it is her and Fingolfin’s own little private joke that they make sure to keep very secret, even from their parents (especially from their father, in fact). 

She is Fingon’s favorite of his parents’ siblings (and Fingolfin highly suspects that his eldest son is at least fairly high up on Lalwen’s list of favorite niblings) and she and Aredhel act so alike at times that he’s complained to her that _finally I know why Father always looked so tired with us around_ and she laughs and laughs, her joy contagious and shining bright like the Trees. Lalwen is the most gleeful of his siblings, moving through life like she’s splashing through a puddle–completely without care. 

But it is not a surprise when she wants to come to Beleriand, either. That similarity to their father grieves her greatly now, and after they see his body Fingolfin realizes that she is seeing her own death in that ruined form. Lalwen is not one to back down however, not out of fear, and no matter what she sees in their father’s corpse she goes with him. Her fingers freeze and crack on the Ice, her beloved steed who was no Rochallor in constitution perished on the Ice and she carves his flesh to feed their people herself, she is cold on the Ice and will never be warm no matter how hard Fingolfin tries to shelter his only younger sibling that would come with him from the Ice–

Lalwen thaws in Mithrim, and it is a relief to see her vibrant joy and curiosity again. If she mutters _good riddance_ about Fëanor’s fate when they hear of it before swiftly moving onto imploring him to forgive their nephews–then it doesn’t matter, for Fingolfin makes sure he does not hear it. She is vengeful as the rest of them but content to be satisfied, and for that she’s better than at least half of their house in Fingolfin’s mind.

When Turgon and Aredhel disappear overnight, he goes to her first. They have only each other now, the two lonely survivors of Beleriand in their generation. Fingolfin could never talk to his children about this–or child now, for Fingon is the only one that has stayed by his side and yet lives. Lalwen has no one else to burden with her grief and strife. They act as the bulwarks of the west while their nephew guards the east–their nephew, who Fingon so clearly wants to join at times but stays by Fingolfin despite it.

He tells this all to Lalwen. In another life, he would have felt wretched for telling any of his fears to his little sister. But such boundaries had vanished on the Helcaraxë, where hiding your pains could spell your death. So many dead because of pride.

Fingolfin does not think of his older (half) brother when he says that ignores the irony.

* * *

Lalwen is the second sibling he loses to fire. Killed during the Dagor Bragollach, they have not even her bones to bury, nor her sword–even if they could find the latter, it would probably only be a molten and misshapen chunk of scrap metal by now. Not even a dragon could prevent her from dying with a blade in her hand–but if they could find it, would they find any of her ashes?

There are many thoughts that went through Fingolfin’s head on that final frantic ride to the Iron Hells, Rochallor’s hooves pounding deep grooves in the earth amongst their ruined lands. He thought of his sons–the two that yet remained, Argon long lost to him–and his daughter. His lost children, hidden away–were they safe now? Had they too been caught in the flame? For all he knew, he was about to leave Fingon as not just High King but the only remaining Nolofinwean, for if his second son and daughter were gone then little Itarillë would be too.

But the thought did not turn him back, for he was the last of his generation of the House of Finwë in Beleriand and felt that pain keenly. So he thought of Lalwen and the sword she must have carried with her to her death but _they could not find_ , and he kept riding.

She was the one to greet him in the Halls, just before Fëanor. His little sister’s fëa shook in arms, clearly sobbing for all they had just lost, for all her nieces and nephews had just lost. It was the only time he’d seen her truly weep since she was a child–she was one to hide her tears. They grieved together for their own deaths, and for the two lonely survivors of their generation, out of their reach but same in Aman.

**Author's Note:**

> I just have Feeling about these two ;_;
> 
> Please kudos and comment if you have the time and energy! I really appreciate all of them <3


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